You Found Me
by Mrs. Peeta Mellark 74
Summary: AU: When tragedy strikes, Peeta Mellark's life goes downhill. Pushing away his best friend, Katniss Everdeen, he isolates himself while doing drugs and drinking away the pain. It is not until 2 years later Katniss returns to him as his physics tutor - not only helping him to improve his grades, but also bring his life back together. Based on the song "You Found Me", by The Fray.
1. The Tutor

**This song is based on the song, "You Found Me", by The Fray. I highly recommend you guys to listen to it while you read my story. **

**My story is rated T, but there are some mature themes like drug and alcohol abuse, child abuse, and some swearing. This is kind of at the verge of M, but not really because it doesn't have ****_explicit_**** content. I'll probably write up to 15-20 chapters for this story, but I don't have an updating schedule. However, I promise I won't leave you guys hanging for more than a week or so.**

**This chapter will be kind of short. I just wanted to give you guys an introduction of what's going to come.**

**All property belongs to its rightful owners.**

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><p>Nibbling at the end of my pencil, I try to pay attention in class. Mr. Crane already snapped in my face twice today, and I don't want to stay after school just for dozing off. It becomes increasingly difficult for me to stay awake as Crane continues to drawl on about Newton's Law, but surprisingly I able to keep my eyes open ten minutes in the period. I think the reason is the only thing occupying my mind is the resemblance of Crane's beard to the flames in our fireplace during the holidays.<p>

It was not until the door bursting open that I face myself back into reality. A lanky, skinny pale boy enters the room, with his messy curls hanging over his forehead. His cold, blue eyes lock with my own, and I immediately turn away. I have to remind myself that this boy is no longer the oneI knew years ago.

Crane automatically scowls at the sight of him. My physics teacher is not one to tolerate tardiness, and Peeta Mellark is no exception to this. Crane eyes him up and down, and then asks coldly, "What has made you late to my class for the sixth time in a row, Mr. Mellark?"

Peeta snaps his head from his shoes to meet Crane's gaze. He balls his hands into fists, and his jaw tightens. This boy not seem threatening considering his body frame, but I have seen his in numerous occasions forcing people into a headlock. However, that is not only thing that is threatening about his. It is his aura. He fills the atmosphere with coldness, stoniness, and fear. And it is quite apparent, because every time he walks in class, almost everybody silent out of fear of him. Kids at school would rather hug the brute Cato Hedley than meet eyes with Peeta Mellark. It is hard to believe he used to be my best friend - a kind, sympathetic, charismatic, and generous boy who would never even hurt a fly. I don't know what has happened for the past couple of years, but it certainly has changed him. "My bus came late," he states stonily. Almost everybody knows it is a lie. Perhaps Peeta was simply taking a smoke outside, or was fighting with somebody across the street.

"You have detention for thirty minutes after class, Mr. Mellark," Crane snaps. He then turns his head abruptly back to the class, and says, "Please take our textbooks and turn to page 31, class."

I take out my textbook slowly as I watch Peeta go to his seat with the corner of my eye. He doesn't have his textbook with him, nor his bag. His desk neighbour, who I nicknamed Foxface, doesn't even make eye contact with him as she takes out her textbook. Its obvious Foxface won't share her textbook with him, not like he would agree to anyway.

Crane assigns some homework for us to complete, and I begin right away. I skim through the questions, and automatically determine an answer for each one of them. By the end of the period, I complete all the questions. Although physics has always been easy for me, I find it the most boring class in my schedule. Perhaps it's the class itself that makes it tedious – Mr. Crane has always found a way to make things as formal – and boring- as possible. I still plan to go into chemical engineering after I complete the twelfth grade though.

The bell rings. I throw my books inside my bag, and I am about to leave the class until Mr. Crane calls my name. My heart suddenly starts thumping against my chest. I slowly turn around, where I find Mr. Crane looking at me carefully. He slowly motions myself to him, and so I drag my feet across the room to him.

"How are you finding physics, Miss Everdeen?" Crane asks.

I am immediately suspicious of him. What does it matter to him if I enjoy physics or not? However, I play it safe and respond, "It's interesting."

He clears his throat. "You are one of the most hard-working and bright students in this class, and so I have a favour to ask from you."

Crane waits for my response. I eye him carefully. "What favour?"

The emotionless, strange-bearded, cold man replies, "You know Mr. Peeta Mellark, correct? His grades are dropping on a great scale, and so I would find that it would be in his best interest to receive a tutor to help him with his work."

My head begins to spin. "You want me to tutor Peeta?" I ask incredulously. "He doesn't seem to want to bring up his grade."

Mr. Crane lifts his eyebrow in surprise. My face reddens. I have never been one to express my emotions, especially in class. "I will give you an extra credit. I know you wanted to receive a higher mark in your last unit test, so this will be your chance to bring up your average."

I stare at Mr. Crane. I can't believe that Crane would bribe me with extra marks so I could tutor Peeta. Although I would like my mark to return back to a 95, I rather stick with my current average than have another encounter with Peeta again. Things have been extremely tensed with him since the last time I've spoken to him. And that time we left at a bad note.

"Peeta is having a rough time. A couple of years ago he was a very intelligent student – you would know that, Miss Everdeen. He just needs to get back on track with his education. I believe you can help him with that," Crane explains.

It's almost surprising that Crane cares for Peeta. I always considered him as a cold-hearted man who wouldn't hesitate to fail a student if he or she leaves a bad impression on him. My heart almost softens for Crane. Perhaps I don't dislike my physics teacher after all.

"Will you tutor Peeta, Katniss?" Crane asks, waiting for my answer.

I return my gaze from my shoes back to my teacher. I still care for Peeta. Well, at least I think I do. But I don't think Peeta would want to see me again - he already made a point of it the last time we spoken to each other. At the same time, I want Peeta to return back to his old self. Maybe I will be able to help him with that. "Okay, fine," I answer quickly before I am able to object.

Crane grimaces, which I think was supposed to be a smile. "Thank you, Miss Everdeen. I will speak to Peeta afterschool, and we can figure out the days he will take sessions with you." Crane then proceeds to scribble a note on a piece of paper, a valid excuse for my lateness for period three. As I tuck the piece of paper inside my pocket, I rush past the door without saying goodbye to the teacher. My heart beats rapidly as I make my way through the empty halls to my biology class. My thoughts are whirling in my head. All I can make out in the storm within is that I'm tutoring Peeta Mellark. But how will I be able to explain e=mc^2 when I am barely able to make eye contact with him?


	2. The Student

**I didn't mean to upload another chapter today, but I honestly couldn't stop myself. I just completed this chapter and I was so excited to post it so I did, even though it's been only a couple of hours since I posted the first one. LOL so here you guys go, enjoy xx **

**All property belongs to its rightful owners.**

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><p>The next day, Peeta is in class on time. Avoiding eye contact with him, I maneuver my way to my seat. Leaning over to my bag, I take out my notebook and textbook. When I sit upright again, I find none other than Peeta standing in front my desk.<p>

"You don't need to tutor me," Peeta states icily.

Of course Peeta wouldn't want me to tutor him. That would totally deflate his ego. So what was I thinking when I agreed with Crane that I would help him with physics? Unfortunately, now I have made that deal with stupid Crane, I am unable to get myself out of it. "Mr. Crane told me to help you with physics," I manage out.

"Then say no," he snaps angrily.

"I already agreed to," I state while trying to maintain composure.

"You can still refuse, godammit," Peeta says furiously.

Clenching my teeth, and trying to stay calm, I say, "It's too late for that now, Peeta. I will have to tutor you, whether you like it or not. You can get rid of me as soon as you're able to leave this class with a passing grade."

Peeta stares me down with his cold blue eyes. Usually, this would make me writhe under my skin and shudder. But this skinny boy can't do anything to hurt me, and it's not like I would let him. He can gawk at me as long as he wants, but it won't change my answer. Suddenly, Crane enters the room. "Class, sit down." Peea still holds his ground. He doesn't even seem to have noticed that Crane has come. He continues to stare at me like a piece of meat. "Peeta, I have told you to sit down." Peeta doesn't move an inch. "Peeta." Surprisingly, he slowly moves away from my desk, but he still keeps his eyes on me. He makes his way back to the desk, and it is not until he sits down that his gaze falls down to his shoes. I look away from Peeta, and I find the entire class staring at me.

Crane clears his throat and begins his lesson.

…

I sit beside Madge Undersee at lunch. She's a quiet girl, who is introverted and doesn't bother to make a meaningless conversation. This suits us both fine. Although Madge is the mayor's daughter, she is quite simple. She always wears a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and doesn't spark conversations about boys or clothes or anything of the like. Although we don't speak too often, we enjoy each other's company.

After I finish my cheese sandwich, I throw my backpack over my shoulder. Madge looks questioningly at me as I prepare to leave the cafeteria. "I need to go to the library to tutor a kid," I explain vaguely.

"Who?" Madge asks.

Biting my lip, I mutter, "Peeta Mellark."

Her eyes widen at the mention of his name. "Peeta? That drug-addict douchebag you were friends with in the tenth grade?"

I gasp. "Drugs? He does drugs?" I knew he smoked, but I never knew he was involved in something that was illegal. Where are his parents? Does his parents know? Mr. Mellark would be so disappointed in him. Mrs. Mellark would be so embarrassed of him that she would kick him out. What happened to Peeta?

"You didn't know?" Madge exclaims, forcing me out of my thoughts.

"I knew that he got into fights a lot, and he smoked…but other drugs?" I mumble. I have to remind myself that I shouldn't care what he does in his leisure. We're not friends anymore. I am forced to help with physics. All I have to do is explain a couple of things twice or thrice a week at lunch, and that would be practically it.

Shaking my head, I turn my back to Madge. I walk hesitatingly past the crowded cafeteria, and make my way to the library across the noisy halls. As I reach the entrance of the library, I lean against the glass doors. My hand holds the handle, at the verge of opening the door to meet my student. I am about to turn it, but I cowardly bring my hand back. I can't do it. I can't see Peeta's face again. "Hey, hurry up," someone suddenly calls from the back. My cheeks reddening, I twist the handle I walk in. I must've looked ridiculous leaning against the door like that. I should've just left instead of just staying there to decide whether or not to go in. Now, I'm here in the library, about to meet the shell of what once was Peeta Mellark. I think to myself I still have time to leave the library, until I see Peeta across the room looking at me.

I haven't realized until now that Peeta could have not showed up. Perhaps Crane threatened to fail him for good if he refused to get tutored by me. However, whatever the reason, he is here and I have no choice but to teach him physics. And he has seen me, so there is no way I can get out of this situation. So, I have no choice but to drag myself towards him. Every step I take, the faster my heart beats against my chest. By the time I face to face with him, I am struggling to breathe.

After a pregnant pause, I choke out, "Hi."

Peeta looks at me expressionlessly.

"Let's sit," I mumble, walking towards an empty table a couple of metres away from us. Slowly dropping myself to the chair, I watch the boy making his way to the other end of the table. I sit down hesitatingly, I take out my books.

Realizing that Peeta didn't bring anything with him, I ask quietly, "Do you have your stuff?"

His head suddenly snaps up. He stares. And then, he shakes his head.

Unsure what to do, I begin to blabber nervously, "I guess we should start making some new study notes for the unit. Crane's notes may seem confusing since he goes into unnecessary detail, so it's better if we just start anew. That way, we are able to determine what's important and what's not. From there, we can find out what you are struggling with, and I can –"

"Katniss," Peeta says quietly.

Peeta saying my name, so simple, yet so strangely disturbing – I find my heart beating rapidly and armpits becoming moist. Looking up from my lap, I see Peeta searching my face. He doesn't seem angry like he usually does. It's then I notice the dark circles around his eyes, and the bruises peeking out of the collar of shirt that are beginning to purple. Somehow, I'm shaking.

"You can leave. I won't improve my mark anyhow, so there's no point in being here. I'll still tell Crane that you are tutoring me, so that you can get your extra credit," he explains emotionlessly.

I'm almost angry that he thinks that I'm tutoring him only for my benefit, but I have to remind myself that he is speaking nothing but the truth. That is the only reason why I'm helping him, I think. Or maybe I do want to tutor him so he can pass. I don't know.

"I won't get my extra credit if I can't help you pass," I blurt. The moment I say it, I instantly regret it. Now I have just confirmed his thoughts, and it only proves my selfishness and cruel manipulation.

"I only came here today just to tell you this, Katniss. I'm not here to learn from you. I know I'm just wasting your time," Peeta says.

I search his eyes to see anything but the truth. But I can't. It's clear that Peeta doesn't want anything to do with me now. He already made a point of it numerous of times. He pushed me away more times than I can count. I should just leave him. But I can't figure out the reason why that's preventing me from doing so.

"Peeta, this not up for a debate. You're here to get tutored, and you have no say in it. Do you not want to pass?" I ask him exasperatedly.

His eyes begin to blaze in anger. He clutches his fists like he always does when he's furious, so I know I have stepped over the line. "I don't care if I don't pass! I'm not sure why I'm still in school, anyway. I should just fucking drop out."

"Then why don't you?" I challenge, because I honestly want to know.

Peeta stares at me, eyes widened and mouth agape. For a moment, I think he's going to cry. But before my thoughts are confirmed, he storms out the library.

I'm now left with just my thoughts. Instinctively, I rest my head on the table, and place my hands over my hair. I try imagining the days when I was best friends with Peeta. Back then, I could never imagine him in the position he is right now. I could never imagine him smoking, doing drugs, drinking alcohol, fighting random people, and being so…_cold_.

The rest of the day drags on. I can't pay attention in class, because the only thing that's in my mind is my conversation with Peeta. I don't understand what's wrong with him. He pushed me away, so how can I go crawling back to him? He doesn't want me. He doesn't need me. He made it clear we are not friends, so I guess it's better for us to stick that way.


	3. Dandelion

**Hey guys! I posted this chapter much earlier than I have intended, but I was too excited. Anyway, here you guys go xx**

**By the way, Gale is Katniss' age is the story, and both of their fathers are alive. I just wanted to give you guys a heads- up. **

**As always, I own nothing.**

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><p>I sit in the spot we have met before in the library. Peeta is supposed to be here by 12, and it's 12:10. Scowling at the clock adjacent to me, I decide that I should just leave. I'm wasting my time, I should be studying for my biology test instead of sitting here like a pathetic, helpless dog, waiting for his owner to come back from the convenience store. Stashing my pencils and pens back into my pencil class, and then throwing it back into my backpack, I abruptly get up from the chair, almost knocking it down. I march out of the library, head spinning in anger. How dare he leave be hanging for the second time in the row? He should've at least spoken to me that he doesn't won't to continue his classes. How pathetic must I seem, waiting for him as if he were going to come.<p>

I am not paying attention where I'm going until I crash into somebody. Falling down, my hand makes contact with the hard floor. Swearing in pain, I try standing up as somebody pulls me from the ground. When I'm finally on my feet, I find myself standing face-to-face with Peeta Mellark.

"Where the hell were you?" I snap angrily, immediately forgetting the pain on my forearm.

Peeta shrugs, gripping his strap on his bag nervously. "I had some stuff to do before I could come."

"You had me waiting for like 20 minutes," I state, swiftly picking up my fallen bag on the floor.

Peeta shrugs again, and then says, "It was actually only 10 minutes."

Scowling towards Peeta, who looks at me expressionlessly, I try figuring out if he wants to be taught by me. Peeta has his bag. He seems ready to learn in that case. He might be late, but at least he admits it. "Let's go," I huff decisively, stomping into the quietness of the library and leaving the noise of the crowded atrium. Finding our previous seat, I plop myself in one of the chairs. Peeta slowly sits on the one opposite of me, avoiding eye contact. Bringing out my books, and taking out one of my pens, I say, "Let's make those notes I was speaking about earlier."

Peeta doesn't say anything, but he still brings out a pen and places it in front of him. I decide I might as well start with the lesson. I take out our textbook, and then some sticky notes. I search through the pages, and place a sticky note on a concept that I think is important to cover. Then, I ask him whether he needs help on each sticky note, which he replies with a short "yes" or "no". The ones he responds with "no" I star. By the end of our little textbook search, I realize that there are less starred concepts than I thought there would be. Perhaps Peeta is lying what he's struggling with so it wouldn't demean his ego or something. When I look up from my textbook, getting ready to start with the first chapter, I find Peeta already staring intently at me. He no longer stares at me with anger, but what it almost seems be curiosity. Biting my lower lip, I look to the desk as I start explaining the key points of the chapter. I begin scribbling away the parts he should remember on a paper, and by the time we're done with the first chapter, I push it towards him. "Here are your notes for your first chapter. Read it over, and see if it makes sense."

Peeta skims through my writing before he nods in approval. When he pushes the paper back at me, I ask curiously, "I thought you found this lesson hard."

His face changes into something I can't depict. "I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not," I tell him defensively. "Of course I wouldn't think that. Especially when you had a 4.0 GPA back in grade 10."

Peeta shrugs indifferently, "I might not be stupid, but I'm still not in grade 10 anymore."

He's right. We're not. Circumstances have changed into something irreversible, so I know that things will never be the same again. "How about we bring up your grades to what it was before," I suggest.

"I don't think that's possible," he mutters, clasping his dry hands together, and then fixating his vision upon them.

"Then let's get as close as we can get," I tell him.

…

Our study session was extremely awkward. It seems our roles have changed throughout the years, with myself talking more instead of Peeta. Back then, I would beg him to stop talking about different types of bread around the world, but now I wish that he would say something that would remind me of his old self. Anyway, I have undermined Peeta and his understanding of physics. He is quite sharp, and is able to catch on to the concepts quickly. I was impressed by the end of our lunch break that we were able to go through three lessons, and having Peeta understand them thoroughly.

When the last bell rings, it is the end of the day. I push the bodies away from me in the crowded atrium, and then force myself outside. There, I find Prim, my little sister, under the flag pole. She is talking to one of the Hawthrone brothers, Rory. It was cute when they were little 10 year olds, who tried to hide their feelings of one another. But now they are freshmen of Panem High, so I kind of fear Rory being around Prim so much. Not only is it annoying seeing them eye each other with flushed cheeks, but I also am skeptical of them together when I find that Prim shouldn't be dating at a young age. She may be 14 now, but to me, she is still my little baby. Rory is a good kid, all the Hawthorne boys are – even Gale, for that matter - so I don't need to worry that he won't treat her right.

I decide I should give them a little time alone, until I hear a voice behind me, "This is getting more pathetic day by day. When will Rory just grow some balls and ask Prim out?"

I scowl, knowing fully well who the owner of the voice is. "Shut up, Gale. They are still young."

"They're 14, Catnip," Gale says matter-of-factly. "They are going to be dating sooner or later."

Suddenly, Prim and Rory are in front of us, giggling over some joke. "Hey Katniss!" Prim exclaims, and then turns to Gale, "Hi!"

Gale ruffles Prim's hair affectionately. The Hawthornes have been family friends to us for years. Gale's father and mine had been pals back in high school, and now work together as civil engineers of the city. The Hawthornes have always been brothers to me, and we have always been sisters to them. Gale and I always said that it would finally be official once Prim and Rory get married, when we will become brother and sister- in law. "So how was school, chap?" Gale asks, turning to his little brother.

"It was okay, the usual. Mrs. Coin was extra boring today, she kept on going on about the same thing over and over...," Rory goes on until I tune out. I admire Gale's patience with his brothers, something that I will never have for anyone. We continue walking away from the school, until Rory pipes up about something, "Hey, look. There's a fight."

Without turning my head, I immediately know who is involved in fight. But when I do, it is none other than Peeta Mellark. Peeta is throwing punches towards a lean, pale-skinned boy, who I believe is the jack-ass Marvel. Marvel is blocking his upper body, but at the same time he's kicking Peeta in the shins. Although this is nothing out of the ordinary, I still can't help but wonder what the fight is about. Perhaps Peeta was unable to pay for his drugs or something.

"Man, that Mellark kid is getting ridiculous," Gale mumbles, shaking his head disapprovingly towards Peeta.

Although I don't say anything, I agree.

…

"Hi Mom!" Prim calls out as she tosses her shoes into the closet. Our home smells of garlic and spaghetti sauce, so I immediately figure out what we're having for dinner today. I smile, Mom's spaghetti and meatballs, with her famous garlic bread, has always been a favorite of mine.

Although I'm really craving Mom's food, I'm really tired. I climb up the stairs after I taken off my shoes, and then make my way to my room. I drop my schoolbag against the door, and then fall on top of my bed. School has been extremely emotionally and mentally exhausting. Closing my eyes, I try to remember Peeta's face years ago. He had bright blue eyes, with eyelashes that we so long and curly that couldn't be noted unless you're looking at him under the light. He had full, pink lips, and dimples would form on both of his cheeks whenever he would smile. He had curly, blond hair that used to spring freely from his head. He was also healthy. He had broad shoulders and muscular. Back then, he caught every girl's eye with his good looks. Madge told me that some girls, particularly Glimmer, was jealous of me because of all the time I spent with Peeta. Not a lot of people knew we were best friends, not lovers. Anyway, he was on the wrestling team, football team, and on student council. Everybody, including the teachers, loved him.

I get up abruptly from by bed, sitting upright. I crawl to the other side of my mattress, and then I pull out a drawer from my nightstand. Inside is a mass of papers, books, and folders. Under a pile of old math worksheet, I rummage out the thing I was looking for.

Running my fingers through the precise, detailed petals of the bright yellow dandelion, I remember the time when Peeta gave me this sketch. We were sixteen years old, when my uncle, Haymitch, passed away. I was in a pit of grief, even though I kind of resented the old alcoholic from time to time. Anyway, Peeta was there at the funeral, even though he had never met Haymitch, to give condolences to our family. I was somewhat annoyed that Peeta was there, because I figured that he should've given me space at the time of passing. Instead, he came with warm, baked goods to give out during the sessions, and given me a sketch of a dandelion beginning to boom. He told me that it was to remind me that things can be good again despite all the losses. In the back of my head, I wanted to refuse it, but I had the least decency to take it and grudgingly thank him. I thought that the sketch was meaningless and unnecessary, so by the time I returned back home, I tossed it into my night stand. I had not taken it from those drawers again – until now.

I hold the sketch to my chest, enveloping it with my arms. I wish Peeta, _my_ Peeta, was here again. My best friend. My rock. The one I can depend on. But I have to remind myself that Peeta Mellark is far from my reach. I will never be able to have him again.

The only thing I could do for him now is help him improve is physics grade.


	4. Drunk

**Okay guys, this is an angsty chapter . Please feel free add some helpful advice to the commets, or even some constructive critiscism (no insults, please. I'm only a beginner in writing, and I'm still trying out different genres). Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows guys! :)**

**Trigger warning: alcoholism, child abuse.**

**I own nothing.**

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><p>I swirl the Cheerios in the bowl of milk. I don't have much of an appetite this morning, and it makes it worse that I have zero energy to take on the day. Not to mention I have a biology test today, which I didn't study for. I spent most of my evening yesterday just lying in bed, thinking about Peeta and his situation. I hadn't given much thought about Peeta until I became his tutor -as I was forced to teach him physics although it is clear that he doesn't want the help. Anyway, I don't think Peeta and I will ever be friends, and if we do – which I doubt – our friendship would not last long. I'm planning to go out of state so I can attend a good university, and Peeta…I don't think he has any plans for post-secondary education. Either way, there's no point thinking about him anymore. He is now simply my student, nothing else.<p>

Yawning, I get up from my seat. Dad, who is sitting opposite from me, lowers his newspaper and eyes me carefully. Then, he looks at my half-full bowl of cereal. "Not hungry, Kat?"

Shaking my head, I grab my backpack resting against my chair. "No, I ate a lot of Mom's spaghetti yesterday."

Dad nods, but he still doesn't keep his eyes off of me. He knows that something is wrong. He was always the one who could understand me the best, since we are so similar. But I didn't take on a couple of his traits – his patience and charisma. I don't know where I have inherited my stubbornness, impatience, repulsiveness from, but I'm sure everybody around me wishes I didn't possess these traits. I can get pretty hard to get along with, so it is kind of hard for me to make friends. Madge and Gale are my only friends at school, but Madge is only my friend because of convenience, and Gale I have known since I could understand who he was. The only person I was able to truly, legitimately, become friends with was Peeta Mellark. But now, even that friendship seems to be meaningless.

"You're tired, Kat. Did you sleep last night?" Dad asks, looking at me carefully with the same silver, grey eyes I have inherited from him. Folding his newspaper, and then placing it carefully on the table, he continues, "You don't have to go to school today. Or maybe I can drop you later so you can get a few hours of sleep."

I shake my head. "You have to get to work. And besides, I have a bio test today." Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I bid Dad a goodbye. Then, I call Prim from downstairs, who comes rushing down the steps with shoes over her shoulders, backpack in one of her hands, and textbook in the other. "Prim, you should really wake up earlier so you don't have to rush so much in the morning."

"I won't get you late, Katniss!" she exclaims, quickly pulling her shoes onto her feet and then rushing into the kitchen. She returns with a piece of toast between her teeth, while she throws in her textbook in her bag and zips the zipper up. Her blond her flies wildly as she runs to closet, where she takes out her coat. "Let's go!" she states, taking her toast out of her mouth and into both of her hands.

Prim and I walk to school, with the bitter air hitting onto our faces. It's freezing, I have no idea how Prim is able to eat her toast with her hands exposed to chilliness. I walk a bit faster to warm up, crossing my hands against my chest to retain the heat. Soon, Prim is done her breakfast, and we're at school. Luckily, we're ten minutes early, so there's not as many people crowded around the school as there would be at the last minute. Prim goes off to the opposite direction, where her class is closer.

Something catches my eye before I open the door. I see a dark figure looming off into the distance. I step a bit closer in its direction, trying to make out what it is. Still unable to see, I walk closer, which is when I realize that it is a person. I don't know why there is hysteria overcoming me, but I have the sudden urge to break off running towards his direction. But I don't run though, I walk. I walk slowly, almost as if a predator would to its prey. Every step I take, I get a clearer picture of that person. This person is facing his back to me, wearing a dark, old sweater that hangs loosely over his body. And then suddenly, he turns around, and calls my name. "Katniss," he says hauntingly.

I find myself staring at a yellow-skinned, lifeless blue-eyed Peeta. Now, this Peeta holds a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and is stumbling towards my direction. He is a total resemblance of my late uncle, Haymitch, except it is more pitiful because he is only 18. Peeta is drunk.

My breath catches when I look more carefully at him. He has a dark purple bruise on his cheek. "Peeta," I gasp.

"Katniss," he slurs again, swaying side by side.

Instinctively, I rush towards him and grab him by the wrists. His hands are cold. He's cold. "Why are you drinking?" I ask him hysterically, knocking the bottle out of his hands and onto the pavement. The bottle shatters into a million, tiny pieces, and Peeta's face does not distort in any way. He's drunk as a skunk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Peeta leans on my shoulder, and says hoarsely, "I've been…been looking for you..." There is this pungent smell of alcohol and sweat, and so it is clear to see – or smell, for that matter – that he hasn't bathed in days.

I grab him by the arms, and push him further back so I can get a better look at him. His clothes are more ratted than usual…has he been outside all night? But why would he be outside? What about his parents and brothers – do they know about Peeta? Do they know what's going on with him? "Peeta, you shouldn't be drinking! What do you think you're doing?!"

"It keeps me…warm," he mumbles, swaying back and forth, and then looking up the sky. Suddenly, he drops to the ground, and picks up the pieces of the shattered whiskey bottle. Abruptly, he brings up his arms to the sky, and yells out on the top of his lungs, "It keeps me nice and warm!" I turn around, and see that there are students walking to school. Some are even watching us. What will happen if a teacher were to catch us? I need to get Peeta out of here. "It keep me nice and warm, nice and warm, nice and warm…," he mumbles under his breath. Nervously, I pick Peeta off from the ground, who is much lighter than I thought he would be. But then, he resists, and plops himself back onto the ground. He keeps on muttering, "Nice and warm".

"Peeta," I hiss angrily. "Stop it." He shrieks as I pick him up again, this time more roughly, and I drag him onto his feet. Then, half-carry him out of school property. It takes a while, perhaps 20 minutes, but I'm glad that he's far away from school now. I don't want Peeta to get suspended, now that I'm trying to help him bring up his grades. "Okay, Peeta. I'm taking you home, alright?"

"Home," he repeating, his eyes drooping. Oh no, I think. He's going to pass out! I need him conscious, or else we might earn some suspicion. "Dad, Bannock, Rye…."

"Yes, Peeta. You're going to see your brothers and dad," I tell him annoyed. "Just help me out here and stop squirming around." It has been over 2 years that I have went to Peeta's house, or the Mellark bakery. I still remember the route, but the directions are still a bit hazy. I am about to turn left on an intersection when I realize that I shouldn't be going on main roads. Somebody will find us. So, I maneuver ourselves around, and try finding another route to his house. It's tough enough that it's nearly -15 degrees outside, but now with a drunk Peeta squirming around, I'm unsure if I'm able to reach our destination.

It's almost 9:30, an hour since I've been trying to find a route back home for Peeta. The roads are unfamiliar, the only thing that is guiding me is my natural instinct. Oh God, we're lost.

"Katnissss," he slurs. "Dad."

I shoot him a glare, but of course he wouldn't notice my annoyance. I don't need this right now. Maybe I should just dump Peeta here, I think to myself angrily. But that won't help my own situation either, because I have no idea where we are. The only thing I am able to do is try find a way to the Mellark's, or I will have to call my Dad to take us there.

I decide I will have to make one last attempt to find Peeta's house before I call my Dad. Dad would be so disappointed in him – Peeta will never be able it down. I can cause my ex-best friend embarrassment like that. And what if the school officials get involved? I feel this immense anger towards Peeta at the moment. It's his fault we are lost. It's his fault that he's drunk like this. I don't know why I had to get involved in this situation in the first place. Shit, I should've just called a school official so they can drag him home or something.

We take a left, and then, I recognize something. The Cartwright Sweet Shop! As kids, Peeta and I would rush across the street from his house to buy candies once every month, when we would get our allowance. "Katnisssss," Peeta says in a drunken haze. "Peppermints." Oh yes, Peeta's favorite candy was always peppermints. I liked cherry licorice. Peeta seems to have remembered those moments of our friendship.

Shaking my head, I tell myself that it is not time to relive these worthless memories. I remember that we would have to walk about 2 or 3 blocks to the candy shop from his house. But did we go left or right? I take a chance, and choose that it was left. So, I drag Peeta across the street when the road is clear. "Peppermints," he grunts. "Peppermints." And then, he lurches forward to the candy shop, but he has terrible balance and falls face first.

Swearing, I pull Peeta from the ground. Luckily, he's still conscious, but he has a cut over his eyebrow. I carefully wipe away the blood oozing from his wound, and then I have him lean against me for a while until he regains his energy. Soon, I pull him away from me, and I guide him forward. He's swaying back and forth, mumbling things that I am unable to depict. There are a couple of passerby, but none that I know. Or I hope none that Peeta knows. We cross a couple of blocks, and soon, there it is. Peeta's bakery. I am so relieved that I release a breath that I didn't know I was holding. But once Peeta recognizes his home, he goes hysterical.

"No, no, no!" he starts screaming. "No!"

I cover his mouth up, hoping that nobody heard him. "Shut up," I hiss. "Let me help you, for god's sake." Then, I drag him up the steps, but he keeps on resisting. He holds onto a pillar, preventing his body from moving towards the door. "Peeta, let go," I say, trying to stay calm. But he keeps on screaming and yelling, and muttering things that I cannot hear. And then he starts wailing and sobbing. Swearing underneath my breath, I keep on trying to force him on his feet. "Peeta, just stop. Get up!" I yell at him, reaching my breaking point.

Suddenly, the door whirls open. There stands a tall, thin, grey-haired, cold blue-eyed woman, who seems to be the much older version of Mrs. Mellark. She has really greyed out in the years. Although I have always disliked Mrs. Mellark for her sternness, I am quite relieved that she is here. Finally somebody can help me with Peeta, so I say, "Mrs. Mellark, I found Peeta at the schoolyard, and he seems in bad condition. I thought I should bring him back home."

Peeta, all the while, has become quiet. He does not say a word, but he continues swaying back and forth on the steps. Mrs. Mellark scowls at him, and then her gaze fixates at me. She narrows her eyes, and then scans me up and down. Judging me, perhaps. "Oh, yes. Katniss Everdeen, I believe?" she says coldly. "I'll take Peeta off your hands now." And then, she roughly takes his wrists, and pulls him from his feet. He yelps, hitting his shin, but she has no remorse. "Was he drinking again, Katniss?"

Suddenly, I'm afraid of Peeta. I knew that Mrs. Mellark was mean, and often degraded and embarrassed Peeta, but I never thought she was abusive. I hope she wouldn't hurt him. But it's not like Mr. Mellark would let her anyway – he will protect him. So there are no worries, right? "Yes, he was drinking," I mumble softly. The moment I say it, I instantly regret it. Her eyes lock with Peeta's in the fiercest way, lighting up her cold blue eyes and making her face a cherry red. Mrs. Mellark is angry. What will she do to him?

"Alright, thank you for bringing him to me, Katniss," she says icily. She pulls him inside the house, and shuts the door right in my face.

As I turn to leave, I ponder about what will happen to Peeta inside his home. Mrs. Mellark seems much crueler and colder from the last couple of years, but it's like she will hurt him. She wouldn't, right? I mean, Peeta is still her son. But I wonder if she knows about what he does at school. She already knew about his drinking problem, it seems.

I hear something crash inside the Mellark house. And then I hear a high-pitched scream. Heart beating rapidly against my chest, I take off in the opposite direction. I don't look back once.


	5. Where Were You?

**Hey guys! This chapter is a bit short, but I still wanted to update today. **

**As always, I own nothing.**

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><p><em>Where were you when everything was falling apart?<em>  
><em>All my days were spent by the telephone it never rang<em>  
><em>And all I needed was a call that never came<em>  
><em>To the corner of 1st and Amistad.<em>

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><p>Peeta didn't come to school yesterday.<p>

I sit anxiously in second period, just hoping, _hoping_, that the door might open and Peeta would walk in with a yellow slip, indicating his late arrival. I hold onto my wishful thinking for nearly half an hour, until I finally stop repeatedly looking at the door. He's not coming, I tell myself. I don't know where he is, what's wrong with him, and why he's not here. I also don't know what happened a couple days, when Mrs. Mellark slammed the door at my face, and when the sounds of breaking glass and screams echoed in my ears. I don't know what lied in the hell before me during that time – in fact I was ignorant, sending Peeta away with the devil herself. As much as I told myself that Mrs. Mellark wouldn't hurt him, the more I become sure that she did. I was oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Mellark was capable of hurting an individual like Peeta.

The weather is colder than the days before. The storm clouds hang over the sky, threatening to release a blizzard – resonating with the lump in my throat and the blurriness of my eyes. It is dark, although it is only 3'o clock, imitating the emptiness and hopelessness within me. For the first time in a long time, I cannot find the light in the tunnel.

I cannot force a smile when Prim walks through the door, with a goofy grin on her face. Of course she's cheerful. She's always cheerful. In this cruel world, she still manages to smile. Or perhaps she's oblivious to the real world, thinking that the future lying ahead of her will be filled with happiness and joy. I'd like to give her a reality check, but I wish to remain her innocent. Innocence is a hard thing to find in this day and time.

"Hi Katniss," she exclaims, swinging her pink lunch bag to and fro.

"Hey," I respond forcibly. Then, I begin walking quickly, and motioning Prim to come along.

Even someone as small as Prim is able to recognize my foul mood. She begins asking a series of questions as she catches up to my long strides, like "what's wrong?" and "is it because I ate the last brownie yesterday?" I persistently shake my head, until I cannot be patient anymore. Stopping midway on the sidewalk, I turn to her sharply. "I'm fine, Prim," I seethe. And then, I turn away again, and continue walking.

It's not her fault that Peeta wasn't here today. It's not her fault that Peeta got hurt by his mother. It's not her fault that Peeta is not my friend anymore. It's no one's fault. There is only one person who is to blame. Me.

So, when we reach home, I don't bother taking off my shoes and greeting my parents. Instead, I take off upstairs, and rush into my room. Slamming the door, I melt against the wooden surface. I gather up my limbs, and curl up into a ball. Resting my head against my knees, I prepare for the tears to fall. Unfortunately, they don't. I cannot find comfort in letting go the pain with the release of the salty liquid…I cannot find comfort in anything. The only thing that makes the situation any bearable is that my parents are not calling me from the door, pleading for me to come out. I think they understand that I want to be alone, and that's what I'm most grateful for at this time.

And then I find another thing to be a grateful for. When I lift my head from my knees, my eyes catch the sight of snow beginning to fall. There are various types of the frozen droplets, from large flakes to tiny crystals. It seems that even the sky has let go now.

I think it's time for me too.

…

It's Wednesday, and I'm in physics class again. Crane looks at me pointedly when he calls Peeta's name, as if he knew that I had something to do with his absence. All I could do is focus my gaze onto my laces, in utter shame. Without me even saying it, and without people even knowing the full story, I think everybody knows it's my fault that he's not here. Not that they're unthankful, though. The class is loud, full of life with constant chatter and an occasional guffaw from Brutus.

And then, the class suddenly quiets. It seems as most of the students spoke too soon. Peeta is here.

The door opens to reveal him. He walks in wordlessly, quietly. I can't even hear his feet hit the ground, which is strange because you can always tell he's walking even if you're miles away from him. Anyway, Peeta seems to be in the same condition as he was before his "waddling out drunkenly, and swearing and mutter obscenities under his breath" incident. The only thing that seems different about him is the tone of his skin. He is paler from before, looking weak and tired. But I can't spot any bruises or cuts on his hands, neck or face, so I figure that he's fine after all. Maybe he wasn't here yesterday, or the day before that, because he was still recovering from a hangover. But …why would it take him 48 hours to do that? Either way, it doesn't seem like he got beaten up by Mrs. Mellark, so I suppose things are fine again.

Peeta walks slowly to Mr. Crane, and mutters something to him that I can't decipher. Crane nods, and then Peeta takes his seat. The class resumes, except its much quiet from before. But it doesn't matter, I suppose. Peeta is here, and in good condition, so everything is fine.

At lunch, I walk straight to the library. I want to finish up my English homework before Peeta comes for his lesson. I begin rushing through the quotation analysis questions on Macbeth, not giving my answers a second glance once I scribble a dot at the end of my sentences. English has always been the most tedious subject for me. I prefer mathematics any day.

So once I'm done, I throw my binder inside my backpack, and gulp down the water from my bottle. Snapping the led shut after I satisfied my thirst, I lean down to place the bottle at my feet. Once I rise again, I find Peeta walking towards me. So he is here today, I think to myself. I haven't expected him to come, but then again, he might want to improve his marks and study for that physics test on Monday.

Peeta's eyes are on the floor, and his bag is hung over his right shoulder. He sits down in front me, without a word. He doesn't remove his backpack, he just simply sits still. Without thinking, I blurt out, "Are you okay?"

His eyes meet mine for a second, his blue eyes turning dark. He locks his gaze on me, and says gruffly, "Yes."

Suddenly, I feel anxious again. "Where were you?" I ask him worriedly, without a care if he is offended by the question or not.

He grunts. "I'm here to learn physics from you, not to have a stupid conversation."

He's right.

Clearing my throat, as if to signal that I'm changing the topic, I take out my textbook and our notes. We continue our review sheet we were completing the other day, with me explaining the concepts and Peeta simply nodding here and there. At one point, I think he's just nodding to finish the lesson so he could leave. But when I ask him to explain how to calculate energy, he is able to answer correctly. Huh, I actually have underestimated him. By the end of the lunch period, we are packing up our stuff, and I ask him, "Are you ready for the test next week?"

Peeta shrugs.

"Seriously, Peeta," I state, locking my eyes with him. "I don't want our session to go to waste."

He proceeds to rub the back of his shoulder, his cotton shirt shifting slightly to the left. And that is when my eyes find a large, purple bruise on his skin. Instinctively, I reach over, and pull his shirt over his shoulder. Peeta stills. The bruise is covering the whole mass of his broad left shoulder. Carefully running my fingers against his skin, I stumble out, "She hit you."

That is when Peeta returns to his old self. He pushes me away from him, and stumbles backwards. "No one hit me!" he tells me angrily. "No one!"

I know he's lying. I now have proof that Peeta is being abused at home. "Stop it, Peeta," I hiss under my breath, suddenly aware that we are in the library. I walk closer to him, and tell him fervently, "I'm only trying to help you."

"You're not helping me!" he cries, picking up his bag and throwing it over his left shoulder. Suddenly, he whimpers, and drops the bag on the floor, grasping his shoulder as he squeezing his eyes shut in pain. My heart immediately falls at the sight of Peeta like this. It feels like I've been given a blow to the stomach. I gasp for air as I try to hold back the tears. "Just leave me!"

I walk slowly, as if I would towards a wounded animal. "Let me help you," I plead, taking his arm.

Suddenly, Peeta's angry eyes turn normal again. It seems as if I'm looking at the 16 year old Peeta again. His eyes are large, innocent, clear, and bright. But they are not bright with happiness, no. They are actually glassy. Glassy with tears. His lip quivers as he whispers, "Then where were you?"


	6. Blame

**Hi guys!**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I have never expected to earn this much recognition for my work, so it is honestly like a dream come true! You guys are truly motivating me to continue writing - and considering my profile, this is the only story I am often updating. I have worked really hard in this fic, and I will continue to do so in the chapters to come. Please feel free to continue reviewing, favoriting, and following. It is seriously motivating me to write, I mean, I have exams next week but I'm still writing for you guys xD Love you all! Just wanted to make sure that your help has not gone under appreciated!**

**Alright, back to the story. I have another angsty chapter for you guys - and it might seem that this story is moving quickly,but trust me, there is much more to come. I'm only setting up the tension and the angst for future chapters, which you guys will see later on as the story progresses. I know you guys are probably eager to hear about Peeta's story, but I'm not going to spoil it for you guys yet - although some of you might already have a hunch of what happened to him (****_hint: it's not only the child abuse) _****;). Oh, and those who are following my other story, "Play it Again"...I'm sorry it has been over 7 months since I have last updated. I have not given up on it, life just got in the way and I got really busy. And I just really wanted to focus on this story right now. However, I already have a chapter ready for you guys, and I'll be sure to update by Sunday.**

**Wow, I've written an annoucement much longer than I originally intended it to! Now, go along! Read! :) **

**As always, review, favorite and follow!**

***I own nothing***

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><p>Confused, I step back from him. "What do you mean?" I ask, watching him carefully.<p>

He blinks the tears away, and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm going to class now."

He begins to walk away from me, but I take his hand, preventing him from leaving me. I need to know what is happening to Peeta. He has been avoiding me for all this years, and I'm not going to let him go now. "No, stay Peeta. What did you mean?"

Peeta turns sharply towards me, locking his eyes with my own. His eyes are full of fire. He throws my hand away from his, and states angrily, "It's nothing."

"It is something!" I tell him pleadingly. "Or else you wouldn't have said it in the first place."

"It shouldn't matter to you," he spits. "So you finally came crawling back to me after all these years, huh? Where were you for all this time?"

I have honestly no idea what he's talking about. I watch as his irises darkens as they lock on my face, and his cheeks reddening. "I was always here," I reply carefully. "I should be asking you this question instead. You're the one who started to avoid me in the tenth grade."

"Did you ever wonder why I avoided you? Did you ever wonder why I came to school beaten into a pulp? Did you ever wonder why I started doing all this crap?" he sneers, gripping his fists tightly into balls. For a second I think he's going to punch me, but he wouldn't do that. I know that the 16-year old Peeta is still inside of him - deep, _deep_ inside.

But that isn't the issue right now. "Of course I always used to wonder," I fire back, trying to seem sure of myself. But it is true, I suppose. His bruises that appeared time to time did seem suspicious, and couldn't possibly be formed by play fighting with his brothers.

It is as if the events are beginning to flash back into my mind. I remember Peeta coming to school on the first day of tenth grade, eyes sullen and pale face. I was furious that Peeta wasn't picking up my calls over the summer, and he wouldn't open his door whenever I used to come to his house. So I haven't had any contact with him for months. So I avoided him, yeah. But that was because he avoided me during the summer, making it clear we were not friends anymore. We hadn't talked for months. I had taken note of his body beginning to frail, the paling of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his lack of social life, the constant fights he was in, the cigarettes between his teeth…

"Then why didn't you do anything about it?" he cries, suddenly taking his head into his hands. "Why did you just watch by as I fell apart?" Then, he drops to the floor, sobbing. My heart drops at the sight of him in such a fatal position, knowing fully well that there is nothing for me to do to comfort him. It is the first time I have ever seen Peeta cry, especially in a public setting. Guilt throbs in my throat, perhaps feeling as if I were the reason for his tears.

No – it's not _perhaps_. Of _course_ it is. I am at fault, utterly and truly. _I_ am the reason for his tears.

So, I drop to the floor along with him, and try to pick him up from the ground. At first, he swats my arm away from him, but one thing I can take pride in is my persistence. I no longer care that the library is now quiet, and everybody is looking at us. I don't care if we look ridiculous on the floor like this. Peeta needs me, and this time, I will be there for him. So, pick him up from the ground, taking both of his calloused, dry, and large hands with my own. I realize that's he's cold. Rubbing his palms as if it help circulate the warmth around his hands, I whisper, "I'm here now, Peeta."

Peeta covers his face with is hands, and says wetly, "Just get away from me."

"No, I won't," I reply fiercely. "I can't."

Suddenly, a voice calls from above. "Are you kids are okay?" a stern woman asks.

Tilting my head upwards, I meet eyes with a grey-haired, cold blue-eyed woman with permanent scowl plastered on her face. I tell her impatiently, "We're fine." Peeta has stopped sobbing, but he' still on the floor, and covering his face. I don't want to make a big scene in the library, not like we haven't already.

"Students have reported a lot of noise here. Please take your situation outside of the library. This is a quiet – zone," she states firmly. She points to the exit, and then with her other hand she signals us to get out.

"We're going, we're going," I mumble, trying to help Peeta up from the floor. I take both of our bags and sling them over one of my shoulders, and take Peeta's arm with my other hand to support him. He hands his head to the floor wordlessly. He seems so frail and hopeless, and no matter what I do, I won't make his situation –whatever it is–better. There is always a reason why people act the way the act, Dad would say. He explained to me when I was young that my late uncle, Haymitch, would have to drink away the pain after the loss of my aunt. I never understood it at that time, but now I can realize why people would choose to be drunk instead of sober. You become numb of feelings, outside of reality, without a care in the world. So I know that there has to be reason the way he's acting now. Maybe he's drinking away the pain because he's being abused at home? Possibly. But there are too many grey areas. His father would always step up when Mrs. Mellark insulted or embarrassed him, so there is no doubt he would intervene if he's abusing him. But at the same time, Peeta does cover up the bruises pretty well, it seems that Mrs. Mellark always hits the spots where they won't be exposed. However, Peeta has become accustomed to the abuse –although it was only verbal and emotional before- so he wouldn't be suddenly acting up like this unless there is another reason.

Whatever it may be; the only thing I am sure of in this situation is that Peeta is crying because he's all alone – and I'm the reason for it.

Once I lead him out the door, and the librarian finally removing her hawk-eyes away from us, I lead him to the school exit. I figured that Peeta would like time to be alone now, and he's in no shape to go to the next class. I don't mind I'm skipping biology with Mr Heavensbee, I have always had perfect attendance before. She wouldn't mind too much that I didn't come to class that one time. And besides, Peeta needs me now.

The cold air hits our faces the moment we open the door. The November chill is signalling that winter is to come soon, but we don't care we are without jackets. However, the coldness sending shivers all over my body is not the problem. Kicking the dead leaves as we made our way to an isolated old tree, I think to myself of what I'm going to say to Peeta. There is nothing else to do except to ask what has been happening to him for all these years. I lean against the metal fence, as I watch Peeta stare down at his shoes.

Peeta is the first to talk. "Why did you bring me here?"

I reply smoothly, "I want to help you, that's why."

"You weren't helping me before, especially when I needed it," he says, but his voice is not laced with anger. He's speaking as if he's presenting a report – factually. Yes, it is a fact that I ditched him for all these years. And I have no excuse but to counter that he was avoided me first.

"I don't want to argue, Peeta," I say exhaling. "You're still my friend."

Peeta locks his gaze with mine, eyes still glassy with tears. His cheeks are red with the cold, and the tears are stained on his face. "We're not friends," he states. "You're simply my tutor."

Although it may be freezing, I'm suddenly feeling warm. My blood boils at his response. "As that all I am to you? A tutor?"

"That is the reason why you started to talk to me, yeah?" he responds defensively. "Would you begin talking to me if Crane didn't force you to teach me physics?"

"I didn't know anything that anything was wrong with you," I lie between my teeth. "You never told me. I figured that you didn't want to be my friend anymore in the summer before grade 10."

Peeta looks away, and doesn't respond. We are standing in the cold in silence, the only thing filling the air is the sound of the American flag whipping in the wind. My gaze drops from the flag until I hear a shoes crunching. Eyes meeting Peeta' figure walking away from me, I have nothing else to do but stare as he becomes smaller and smaller off in the distance.

Looking at my watch, I realize that there is still over an hour and thirty minutes left of school. I decide I might as well attend biology class.

The rest of the day goes by like a blur. I don't even realize that the bell rings until I hear the screeches of the chairs grinding against the tiled floor. Everybody rushes out of the door, shouting obscenities and laughing on crude jokes. I am the only one left in the class, scrambling to pack up my things. My biology teacher, Mr. Heavensbee, watches me intently as I throw n my textbook, but I pretend as if I don't notice him. It is not until he clears his throat when I look up to find him, looking at me quite skeptically. I lock my eyes at him momentarily, until he says gruffly, "Miss Everdeen, I'd like to speak with you."

Nodding, I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and walk over to him. "Yes sir?"

"There has been some talk that you have been involved with Mr. Peeta Mellark, is that right, Miss Everdeen.

Staring at him wide-eyed, I stumble out, "Yeah, I'm his tutor."

"You know that's not what I meant," he states. "Your physics teacher, Mr. Crane, has already told me that you were helping Peeta with his studies. But that isn't what I'm concerned about."

My palms sweating, and legs shaking, I still try to control my voice and compose myself. "Then what is the problem, sir? I'm simply trying to help him," I say impatiently.

"I'm not blaming you of anything," he says defensively. "No, no. Not at all. I'm more worried about Peeta than anything else."

That's even _worse_ than I thought before. Do the teachers know about Peeta's wrong-doings? Or worse yet, do they know about what's happening to him at home? Instead, I ask him, almost as if trying to avoid the question, "You don't know Peeta."

Heavensbee raises his eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling knowingly. That is when I know that he knows. "Miss Everdeen, he's in my period one class. I do know very well, perhaps more than what you would know of him."

"Then why am I here?" I snap. "I have to pick up my sister, sir. I must go now." So then, I prepare to take off in the opposite direction, until he halts me.

"Katniss, wait," he says, voice booming across the room. "Mrs. Coin, the guidance counsellar,has saw both of you in the library. She said Peeta was not in a good shape. We have seen bruises and cuts all over him previously, and his dropping grades and lack of mannerism prove that something is indeed wrong with him. All I would like you to do is to help us help Peeta." So Coin was that stern, hawk-eyed woman who told us to get out of the library. And now. all of them, are involved with Peeta's situation - the situation I'm not even sure of what it is about.

"There's nothing wrong with him!" I say quickly, turning around to face him. "Nothing!"

"Everdeen, please lower your voice," he says cooly. "Mr. Crane, Mrs. Coin and I are involved in Peeta's situation to help him. We are not doing anything to harm him. Instead, we are preventing the harm. You, of all people, have seen his injuries. You know that they are not simply 'wresting accidents'."

That is when the guilt hits me at full force. The blame is undying, overwhelming. It is something I have never felt before. I am, certainly, at fault. I have not felt such pain, in any context, since Uncle Haymitch died. But this pain is something else than sadness - it is the pain knowing that you could've prevented the tragedy only if you had the courage to do so. So I am, utimately, at fault. My indecision hours ago has become clear. There are no doubts anymore.

My gaze fixating on my shoes, I ask, "What do I need to do?"


	7. Courage

**Hi guys!**

**I'm sorry I haven't been updating for a while. Life became hectic with exams and all, so I wasn't able to upload a new chapter. I appreciate how all of you guys stuck by me, despite that I've been away for such a long time. I know I promised earlier that I won't keep you waiting for a week, so now I must redeem myself and continue with this vow. Thank you all for the lovely comments, and all the favorites and follows! I cannot put into words how grateful I am for all the positivity I have been receiving :) And so, here is a new chapter! This is my lengthiest chapter yet - which is to thank you guys for being so patient! Love you all!**

**- I own nothing -**

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><p>It is simple. All I have to do is report to the school officials if I have any hints of Peeta's abuse - like a real friend would. If I were a real friend, I would tell Mr. Heavensbee about Peeta's bruises and scars the moment he told me the task. Instead, I bit my tongue and stared at his shiny, black dress shoes. I'd like to think that I am Peeta's friend, and that I genuinely do care, but my hesitance to save him from further abuse is contradicting that. Am I really a friend? Mom, and especially Dad, would be immensely disappointed in me if they were to hear of my antics. After all, I am the only one who knows about Peeta's situation, and thus I am the only one who can save him. If only I had the courage to speak up. If only I had the courage to protect him. If only I had the courage to be the change I always dreamt of.<p>

But I don't.

The physics test is around the corner - only three days away. I am kind of nervous for Peeta, who only knows a quarter of the concepts we learnt in this unit. He's already at a 48% in physics, and if he flunks another test...I'm unsure if he'll get the credit. However, the good thing is that Peeta catches on quick. If we focus a quarter of the unit per day, we will perhaps be able to finish the unit review before the exam. Maybe then Peeta will be prepared, and if he does well enough, it could boost up his average by a couple of percents. At the same time, this plan may be turn out to be an entire disaster if Peeta doesn't have the motivation to do well. And to be honest, I don't even think he has it. I don't even think he is going to attend school today because of the last time we we spoken...wasn't a very civil conversation.

At lunch, I'm waiting at the same table we always sit for our study sessions in the library. I still hang on to my hope that my student will come today, although the chances are slim to none. I am about to leave after the ten minute mark, until I see a hint Peeta's black jacket he always seems to wear. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and say, "You're here", when I'm only a few meters away from him. It is obvious that I haven't expected him to not show up after our last encounter, especially since it seems whenever we speak we leave on a bad note. This time it was another level, though. We have never spoken about our feelings before, and I think after yesterday we won't ever again. It will leave us in tears and rasp, dry throats. I think it is better we just stick with the student - tutor relationship from now on. I watch him carefully though. This boy still has my heart. I still do care for him, and I don't think he will ever leave my mind. It doesn't matter that he is looking scruffy, tired and worn down. To me, he is still the kind and generous boy I have met in kindergarten. His ashy blond hair still falls over his forehead, and he still has to shake his head slightly to the side to move the tendrils from irritating his blue eyes. Yes, he may have changed over the years. He is skinnier than before, like he hasn't eaten in days, but that doesn't matter. Peeta is still Peeta. And today, I finally am able to see that he may resume to his old self, especially now that a scowl isn't plastered on his face like usual. It is a nice sight to see.

Suddenly, I realize I have been staring at him for too long when he shifts awkwardly on his thin legs. "Well, I have to be, don't I?" he mutters when I make brief eye contact with him. He is slinging his backpack over his left shoulder. The bruise on the other shoulder must still hurt, I think. I still wonder what that witch must've hit Peeta with that caused so much damage to him. Must have been nothing less than a bulldozer.

Clearing my throat, and averting my gaze, I ask him hoarsely, "Are you ready for the test?" Leaning over to my side, I unzip my backpack and take out my books. I realize my hands are shaking as I take out a pencil from my pencil case. Nervously, I clasp my hands together on my lap. Digging my nails into my skin, I try to control a cry from escaping my lips. That bruise is because of _me_. I'm the one who forced Peeta back into that hellhole. The guilt is undying, overwhelming. Tears begin to prickle in my eyes. There is no way for me to hide the fact I am the one to blame now. I have to accept the fact I could've prevented this abuse. Oh, if only I had the courage to do so...

The only thing that averts my daze is the sound of his voice. "Somewhat," he says, who does not seem the least bit faltered of my little sitting down on the plastic chair across from me. "Kind of confused on chapter 3 though. The other chapters don't make sense either because I don't understand Newton's law."

I'm sort of surprised that he admitted what he is struggling in. Maybe I was wrong. Peeta does care about his grades, or at least had a bit of interest on improving them. "Well, then. We'll start on Newton's law."

Peeta listens intently as I speak about Newton's Law. At times I am so engrossed in his crystal blues that I lose track of my thought. It's only when he raises his eyebrow that I clear my throat and continue the lesson. He nods occasionally, confirming his understanding of the concepts. He even raises a well-thought question - a question that takes me awhile to answer. I think it would only be decent for me to admit that Peeta is, indeed, intelligent. We were able to finish a unit within 40 minutes, and for the rest of the period we begin on the next unit.

Cracking my knuckles, I ask, "So do you understand everything?"

Peeta makes eye contact with me, and holds it for a good 10 seconds. He runs his fingers through his golden locks and says quietly, "Yeah."

"Need me to confirm anything?" I question as I throw in my materials in my backpack.

He shakes his head. "Thanks, but I think I understand everything." We sit on our seats for awhile. The awkward tension in the atmosphere is overwhelming. I have an urge to break it, but I'm unsure how. Luckily. I won't have to because Peeta does instead. He says,"I'm sorry for my behavior for the past couple of -"

"It's fine, Peeta," I tell him impulsively, placing my hand in front of him to mute the boy. I don't want to remember the incidents from before. I don't want to remember about how I pushed him away. I don't want to remember how he got that purple, plum-sized bruise on his cheek...

Peeta groans, and swats my hand away gently from his face. He then locks his gaze intensely, not angrily, full of passion and trustworthiness. "No, listen to me,"he says before inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes, and then exhales. "I'm sorry I keep on treating you so poorly. Really, I am. I'm also sorry how I blamed you for...things you have no control over. I've been a terrible jerk lately, but I do recognize you've been trying to help me for awhile. I keep thinking bad of your good intentions, but I just want to remind you that I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

My head is whirling with memories, feelings, and emotions. I cannot decipher anything in the storm of my mind. I feel like I'm spinning, _spinning_, into oblivion, so I have to clutch onto the metal table for support. I'm going to fall. It's not until I hear Peeta calling my name that I snap out of it. "Peeta," I gasp and breathing heavily. It feels as if I've finally consumed air after drowning in an ocean for a very long time. Suddenly, I realize my eyes have been closed, so I immediately open them. I become aware that the blue-eyed, curly-haired boy is only a few inches away from my face, looking at me worriedly. I lean backwards against my chair, where I finally see that it's not only him that is concerned, but many others in the library. There are a few kids, a table away from us, looking with faces full of concern. Some librarians have popped up from their little desks to watch us intently. They must think we are probably the most oddest students in the school. Which, I think, we probably are.

"Peeta," I repeat after awhile. "I kind of blanked out. I'm okay though." He still looks at me worriedly, but I shake my head vigorously. "Look, Peeta. I'm your friend. I don't care about the past, and I'll still stick by you no matter what. It's not only you who has been a terrible friend...We're friends now, right?"

He doesn't say anything, but I find his hands clasping together on the table. Instinctively, I reach for them. Holding his cold, large hands with my smaller ones, I try to comfort him as his gaze focuses on our entwined fingers. Squeezing his hands, I say to him softly, "We're friends." He doesn't respond for awhile. I'm not sure how long we've been like this for. Was it a minute? Was it ten minutes? Was it an _hour_? I don't know. It doesn't matter. Because he eventually squeezes back.

"Friends," he states. He looks up at me innocently, with those big blue eyes that remained the same since we were four. I have not appreciated its beauty until now. He may be skinnier. He may be beaten up. Hell, he may have those dark circles under his eyes. But who cares? Underneath all those imperfections, I see the true, innocent Peeta, who has suffered through more tragedies and abuse he deserved. He will suffer no more, though. I'll protect him for as long as I am capable.

I retract my hands from his once I find a familiar blond walk past us. It's Madge. I immediately feel remorseful, because I have been undoubtedly ditching her for nearly two weeks. She still has that small smile plastered on her face whenever I greet her, but I understand that she may be a tad upset with me. I'm the only friend she has, anyway. However, despite that I've been ignoring her lately, she walks over to us. Her blond hair is in a braid over her shoulder, and she wears a pair of black pants with sheer white blouse. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she says, "Hey Katniss." She looks over to Peeta, but her smile doesn't falter. "Hi Peeta." Peeta returns the greeting softly as Madge tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been awhile, hasn't it Peeta?"

He nods hesitantly. "Yes, it has." After a pause, he continues, "How are you doing, Madge?"

"Not bad," she says. While Peeta looks at his hands again, she shoots me a look. She then turns back to Peeta, and asks, "And you?

I cringe at the question. However, Peeta stills replies, "Alright."

"That's good," she says. "Anyway, Katniss. I need you to look over my chemistry lab after school."

Madge doesn't have chemistry this semester. But she wouldn't be lying to me without a reason. "Okay," I respond. "No problem. I'll meet you at your locker." I bite my lip, trying to restrain myself from raising a question that shouldn't be risen at the moment. Madge still looks at me intently, and I try thinking what she might want to say to me at the moment. I suppose that I'll simply have to wait until after school. It must be serious, because Madge only speaks when it's necessary.

The bell rings, cutting out conversation short. Madge waves, and scurries off to the exit. Peeta and I are left scrambling to place our materials into our bags. "You have to go to the second floor, right?" Peeta nods. "Okay, let's walk together." With Peeta on my side, push the moving bodies away from us as we make our way through the library. Once the students are dispersed in the atrium, we are able to breathe. I take the time to make a decision. After some thought, I finally say to him, "I think we should met up after school. You know, to revise for the test."

Peeta turns his head, and raises his eyebrow.

I repeat myself again, louder so he can hear me over all the commotion and noise in the atrium. We keep moving, but I watch as his eyes widen in bewilderment. He opens his mouth, but I quickly say loudly, "We can do it at my house. Or at the library."

Peeta stops midday into his step.

"Hey, get moving!" someone calls behind him. I quickly take his hand, and tug him towards the steps. With the sweaty bodies pressing against our own, we carefully make our way up the steps.

The pungent smell of vinegar fills the stairway, and I'm almost distracted by it until Peeta replies aloud, "No, I'm busy."

"It will only take an hour or so," I insist, leaning into him so he can hear me. "I want you to be thoroughly ready for the test."

Once we are up the steps, we walk with the swarm towards the science hallway. My heart beats fast as I wait for his response. I only have a couple of seconds to persuade him. And we are continuously pushed around because of the large population of students in our school. I keep my eyes on Peeta so I won't lose him. I groan as I watch Cato Hedley and Marvel Woods fight in the middle of the hallway, blocking us. Peeta still sticks by my side, and nears into my ear. He replies, "I really can't, Katniss."

"Yes, you can. Do you have anything more important to do, Peeta?" I question immediately.

Peeta doesn't reply for awhile. Soon, he stops at his classroom, and leans against the lockers beside the door. "Okay, at Central library," he says, turning to me. "At 6."

Smiling inwardly, I try responding the least eagerly as possible, "Great. I'll see you then."

When I walk in to English class, Miss Trinket says, "Why, Katniss! I've never seen you in such high spirits before!" Usually, I would scowl with those kind of remarks, but I allow myself to grin just once.

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><p><strong>Yes! Some Everlark progress! :) Remember to review, favorite, and follow!<strong>


	8. Fall

**-I own nothing-**

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><p>I wait by Madge's locker, hoping that I will find the blond in the swarm of students in the hall. I contemplate if I should leave, because Prim is waiting for me outside and she doesn't know that I'll be late. Luckily, I soon spot the petite girl squirming through the bodies, and reaching towards her locker. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she says, "Sorry. You know how narrow these halls are."<p>

I nod, accepting her apology. "So, why am I here?" I ask bluntly, without thinking twice of my word choice.

Fortunately, Madge has learnt not too take my bitter persona to the heart. She knows that I'm not the most welcoming person, and I believe that she doesn't mind too much. That's why she is one of my only friends, perhaps my only friend. I can rely on her that she won't judge or ridicule me, like the rest of the people in this hellhole. "Well, I'm concerned about you. There has been talk lately, Katniss. Ever since you started spending more time with Peeta."

Confused, I take a step back. "What do you mean?" I ask, because I honestly have no idea what she is talking about. "I'm just tutoring him."

"_I_ know that," Madge says, and then says more quietly, "But _they_ don't."

"Can you please stop talking to me in cryptic messages?" I snap. "Tell me what's the problem, for god's sake."

Madge leans into me, and whispers quickly in my ear, "You know how classes work here, Katniss. Students are gossiping that you and Peeta are dating, and you know how people are like."

My family is upper-middle class. We're not extremely rich, like Madge's family, but we're as close as we can get. After my grandfather passed away, his will stated that my father could take all of his income, since Dad is his only son. We are well-off, compared to Peeta's family. The Mellark family own a small bakery, and from what I have seen, they are not making much income. I remember Mom telling Dad one day that Mr. Mellark was in debt, and he will have to sell his family bakery soon. Fortunately, the bakery is still here...but I don't see a lot of customers coming in. Either way, Peeta's family is struggling, and we're not. In this small town of Mayfield, not a lot of people like that kind of prospect, and with the idea of Peeta and I dating is making things worse. Mom, Dad, and Mr. Mellark (excluding the other Mellarks) had no problem with our friendship. We often had dinners together, and sometimes sleepovers - but only if Mrs. Mellark wasn't around. Mrs. Mellark always had the sharp look in her eyes whenever she would see me. I am no stranger that she dislikes me. However, Mrs. Mellark always used to (poorly) cover her disgust of us with a fake smile plastered on her face. At the same time, I suppose it's wrong for me to interpret things about the Mellark familiy, especially when Mrs. Mellark had never spoken an ill word in my direction. I sigh, and mutter, "But we're not dating."

Surely Madge knows this, and she says, "I don't care if you are or not. They are saying really bad stuff about Peeta, which I don't want to talk about."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I look towards the ground. What must the entire school be talking about us at the moment? "Madge, do you think the same? You don't believe in that gossip, do you?"

Closing her locker shut, and then locking it, she says, "Of course not. Peeta is a big jerk now, and I don't know why you still want to be friends with him. But, there might be a piece of his old self under his hard exterior."

I nod, biting my lower lip.

"Do you know what happened to him, Katniss?" Madge asks in a hushed tone. Her blue eyes lock with my own, as if she's trying to search for something. Madge is bright. She can easily pick out a lie. She can also read me like a book, although I don't think she even knows my favorite color. There's no point in lying now.

"He's hurt, Madge," I say to her quietly. "He's not a bad person. Bad things just happened to him. I don't know what they are, though, but I still want to help him in any way that I can."

Madge looks at me for awhile. Her face does not reveal any emotion. A few moments later, she tips her head. "I'll get going. Prim must be waiting for you."

Cursing under my breath, I glance at my watch. Shit. I'm ten minutes late. Oh God, I hope she's with the Hawthornes at least. Turning on my heel, without bothering to say goodbye, I sprint to the doors. I push the them open, the cold air suddenly hitting my face. Shivering, I quickly glance towards my right and left. She's not here, so he must be at the main entrance. I rush around the school, without a care that people will watch as my hair whips against my face. Al the while, I hope to God that Gale or the other Hawthornes are taking care of her.

As always, my judgement in Gale never fades. He's there, back facing me while speaking to a very worried Prim. Once she notices me, a smile stretches across her face. "I'm so sorry Prim," I tell her as I gasp for air. "I had to do something quick and I lost track of time." Leaning against the bricks, I nod quickly to Gale in thanks.

Gale, rolling his eyes, "You're lucky I found her waiting in the cold, against that big old maple tree, before I went home. You're like twenty minutes late, Katniss."

I scowl towards Gale, but I immediately become ashamed. Prim was waiting for nearly twenty minutes in this bitter cold. What if Gale didn't see her? "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Prim is looking quite sheepish when I meet eyes with her. She kicks a couple of pebbles with her shoes, and watches as they roll away. Swinging her bag slightly, she says. "You guys keep forgetting that I'm nearly fourteen now. I can get back home by myself. Neither of you have to babysit me." Tucking a curl behind her ear, she glances between both of us. It's true. We are too overprotective of the kids. But it's always for a good reason, because there are pretty messed up kids in this school - and they are capable of harming Prim. "By the way, why do you guys let Rory walk home alone but not me?" I exchange looks with Gale. It's quite obvious Rory is much more threatening compare to Prim, and even I am unable to overpower the Hawthorne boy. Rory is mountainous and muscular, even at the ripe age of thirteen. He inherited the Hawthorne genes, of course. Prim, however, is too innocent and gentle. She cannot even hurt a fly. Let alone be able to defend herself.

Gale simply smiles at her, and ruffles her hair. "Let's get going, kid." We start walking down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence. Gale and I are childhood friends. The one I could always depend on. He's like the brother I never had. Our families would often to joke that we'll be dating soon, but Gale and I would always look away in awkward silence. There's nothing romantic between us. I was never one for dating, and Gale...let's say he has quite of a reputation with the ladies. By the way, I bet he has a crush on Madge, although he'll never admit it. I've already seen enough of those blushed faces every time they see each other, and the awkward tension between them every time we sit together at lunch. Sometimes, I wish I could just push Gale into Madge and command him to admit his feelings for her. It's getting almost as annoying as the Prim/Rory thing.

"Katniss, what are you doing at lunch with that Mellark kid?" Gale asks suddenly. I stop in my tracks, staring at him in bewilderment. How does he know about us? Not that it matters, though. But, the way he got this information is almost frightening. Madge was right - there is some talk about Peeta and I.

Trying to maintain composure, I tell him evenly, "Tutoring him physics."

Gale shoots me a look. "I don't trust that kid. Do you even know what he's involved in?"

I shrug. Yeah, he smokes and drinks - but almost everyone in our school does. "Even you drink, Gale. Don't you dare say that Delly's party didn't happen, especially when I had to pick your drunk ass up from getting towed down in the snow."

It is not until Prim giggles that I realize she has been listening to our conversation. Luckily, before Prim is able to open her mouth, Gale grumbles, "That was only _once. _And you promised me that you won't mention it anybody." Gale glances towards Prim, and then looks down to his loafers. 'And by the way, I really don't think you should be involved with Mellark. He's really screwed up."

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><p>At 6, I walk to Central library with my backpack slinging over my shoulder. Dad said that he would drive me to the library, but I refused. Dad knew that there would be no way to persuade me otherwise, due to my stubborn behavior. Instead, he scowled at me disapprovingly, and threw a winter hat in my direction wordlessly. I knew from the beggining that walking to the library in this weather is digging my own grave - but some walks you have to take alone, I suppose. I didn't even tell Mom that I would be walking, because she wouldn't even let me step out of the house. That is one thing that really differentiates Mom and Dad. I love the both equally, but Dad understands me much more - and he knows his boundaries. By the way, I'm pretty sure Mom knows by now where I have gone, so I'm just waiting until my phones blares up her name on the screen.<p>

The snow blinds my vision, and I am unable to see where the library is. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I try to retain the warmth in my fingers from the biting cold. Maybe I should have took those gloves waiting by my dresser. I was running late though, and I didn't want to keep Peeta waiting. It doesn't matter now though - Peeta probably didn't even bother leaving his house for this hell of a snowstorm. But I wouldn't be able to confirm this unless I don't see the boy in the library. So I'll simply have to continue walking in this terrible weather. On a regular day it would only take me 10 minutes to the library - but now 20 minutes already flew by and the library is not in my sight. It's not until a sudden gush of wind hits my face when I finally wish I took up Dad's offer. And to mention the cold - I have never felt this intense numbness in each part of my body before. Cursing underneath my breath, I wish I had never told Peeta that we should meet up.

After awhile, I fortunately get a glimpse of Sae's Diner, indicating that the library is just around the corner. Although I cannot see myself, I'm pretty sure that the smile etched on my face has turned into a grimace, because the moment I stretch my lips they crack. Puckering my lips, trying to moisturize them, I turn right. But once my feet hit the ground, I suddenly feel a sharp pain run up my leg. Slipping on a mass of ice, I collapse into a snow bank. It's almost ironic how my quick, stealthy, and agile reputation has waned in a matter of milliseconds. At the back of my head, I pray that no one has seen my pathetic fall. However, the moment I try pulling myself up from the snow, I realize that someone seeing my fall is the least of my worries. The pain is excruciating and overwhelming - nothing I have ever felt before. I breathe heavily as I try to calm myself, but...I _can't._ I try to prop myself up with my elbow, and pull myself up. The moment I shift my leg, another wave of pain rushes through my entire body. This time, I cannot contain a loud cry bubbling up my throat. My throat dry and heart my thudding against my chest. I realize that I am unable to get up from the ground. But my perseverance never fades - even though I know that my attempts will be of waste. Cursing as an agonizing throb overwhelms my ankle, I reach for my bag - which has my phone in it - a few feet away. I whimper as I try to reach further and further towards my bag, but my arms are not long enough to grab the strap flying in the wind. Mom and Dad will never find me in this terrible weather. I will end up freezing to death, and I have no way to contact anybody.

I lay face down on the snow for awhile, feeling the coldness seeping underneath my clothes. A few seconds later, I roll myself over, so I'm resting on my back. Looking up at the dark sky, I wonder what I should do. Should I scream? Nobody would hear me in these strong winds. Maybe I should drag myself back home. Or maybe I should drag myself to Sae's Diner...

It's only 10 meters - but I have to exert myself so intensely to the point I question if I should simply fall back into the snow bank. I'm nearly half way there, and I can make it - but the pain in my ankle is disagreeing with me. It feels like my foot caught on fire, although I'm numb everywhere else because of the cold. I try to pulling myself further, and further. My palms have a few cuts because of the gravel, but that is like pinch compared to my pain on my foot. I try going further, but another gush of wind hits my body, ad I'm pushed into the snow again. Why can't anyone in Sae's Diner find me? Why isn't anybody here in these streets? Oh yes - it's a snowstorm. Nobody would be going to a library, or a diner for that matter, when you can barely see anything.

I slump back to the ground, and curl my hands over my chest. The hat over my head is slipping away from my ears, and cold air hitting my eardrums at full force. I'm so numb. I'm so tired. It hurts. Everything hurts.

_Shit_.

My bag.

My cellphone is in there, my books, my notes..and it's so _far_. I roll over to my side, and I contemplate whether I should go for it. I figure that -

"Katniss!" someone yells. "Is that you?"

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><p><strong>Sorry for the cliff-hanger! I think most of you guys have an idea who that "someone" is though ;) <strong>

**Love you all! Please be sure to follow, favorite, and review! **


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